The Past
by knoodelhed
Summary: Ch 4 up: Meanwhile, on Oahu...
1. Chapter 1: 1994

Disclaimer: (all ch:) Rocket Power © Klasky-Csupo and Nickelodeon. (this ch:) What A Wonderful World © Bob Thiele, George David Weiss, and Louie Armstrong.

A/N: Many thanks (all ch:) to Billy Wright, Miguel Chavez, Nick Carosella, and others for their input and inspiration.

_**Chapter 1: 1994.**_

The old man sat in the sand on the shore that afternoon, still wearing his white shirt and fedora, his company I.D. still hanging from the white plastic pencil carrier in the pocket of his shirt. He studied carefully the two toddlers he was minding, not his but his neighbors', beside him. Wearing new bathing suits of matching print, the violet haired girl in her two-piece sat squinting at the proceedings from behind salt encrusted cheeks that might have been rosy ordinarily. _How she'd begun to look like her mom, poor things,_ the man couldn't help wondering. The tiny auburn haired boy, maybe a year younger, stood in his trunks beside her as he fidgeted with the string of flowers around him, trying to make sense of it all, his hand on her shoulder. Then she sat him on her lap, as he grabbed her in a babylike hug and began to pat her gently on the back.

The girl, ignoring her flowers, began to play quietly with his hair. She had begun doing that when she had been feeling bad, which had been quite often lately. He didn't mind it, and it seemed to make her feel better. Then, in like manner, he began to play with her hair.

Surfers. Of all ages, sexes, and conditions. A few were great-grandparents, and some had yet to start kindergarten. There were many dozens of them, from Ocean Shores as well as other places near and far, forming one enormous circle just outside the breakers, seated upright on their floating boards, and many of them holding hands with one another to maintain the integrity of the circle.

_...therefore we commend her memory to the deep in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of the faithful..._

Almost all present wore a floral lei, including the young pastor whose black short sleeve shirt with its short white collar contrasted with the colorful boardshorts he wore. As he concluded his part of the proceedings, a burly Hawaiian took over, representing traditions of equal or greater antiquity.

A few moments later, after he had spoken, all heads turned towards a lone bagpiper in full kilt standing on the bequieted Pier playing an all too familiar passage from Dvorak's Ninth Symphony, its plaintive notes wafting over the placid water as though across time itself. And when he had finished, an antique biplane that could have engaged the Red Baron buzzed the assembly from the opposite side, dipping a wing in salute.

A large bell started ringing slowly in the distance, and the surfers in the water flung their leis towards the interior of the circle, and the people on the shore cast theirs into the lapping shorepound. As the people started paddling back into the beach, a sound system started to play a familiar tune by Louie Armstrong that was most appropriate.

_I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and for you, and I think to myself, 'What a wonderful world'..._

Raymundo came to the shore and grabbed Otto and Reggie in an affectionate hug as they ran into the shallow water to greet him. Then he lost it; he almost fell to the ground, crying, only to be steadied by his old friend Tito.

"It's okay, bruddah. Danni's _ohana_, dat mean you're _ohana,_ heck, you been my _ohana_ fo while. So da lil cuzzes, dey _ohana_ too..."

"I know. Thanks," Ray replied. "But there's so much, the kids, the business..."

"We take dis one step at a time, bruddah. Everything work fo da best..."

"I know," acknowledged Raymundo to Tito, able to extract a smile from himself. "Thanks, Merv." Raymundo acknowledged the man who'd been minding his little ones.

"No problem. Why don't I take your board home, you guys go get yourselves cleaned up..."

"Thanks, and very kind of you, but not today. I think we'll just spend a quiet afternoon down here," Ray answered Merv, much calmed down "Just the three of us..."

Ray hardly noticed Otto and Reggie beginning to play with his hair.


	2. Chapter 2: 1970

Chapter 2: 1970.

Whatever quirks existed in Schuyler Rocket's character, and there were more than a couple, his son Raymundo was okay with them as long as he got to live in California. This new life was literally a whole continent removed from the existence he'd suffered in the family flat in a crowded section of Baltimore, before the separation. Ray was a big, strapping fellow of twelve who looked two or three years older; the flexible schedule Sky enjoyed in his capacity as an investigator/adjuster for a major insurance corporation allowed them to spend much time together when Sky was not away on an inquiry or a conference. The son acquired the father's aptitude and love of snow sports during many winter excursions into the Vermont hill country, and once they'd sampled California's offerings of Mammoth Mountain, Big Bear, and Mount Baldy, he was hooked. Sky even bought a small cabin near the last, "big enough to stay a weekend, but too small to want to move into full time."

But as much as the world of winter enthralled Ray, it was the beach and the ocean that ended up seducing him. Ray took a basic swimming class late in the spring after they settled in Ocean Shores, on the condition that Sky would do likewise. Raymundo did very well; Schuyler a little less so, but at least he understood what drove Ray when the coach made an announcement: The best swimmers in the class would be taught to surf, free of charge. And so, with that motivation, it turned out that everybody in the class would obtain free surfing lessons.

And Ray did very well, and during that summer became a very good surfer. Of those in his age group, he was clearly the strongest and boldest, paddling into situations men twice his age and half again his size shied away from--and making it out, time after time. This earned the awe of many. But it kinda made Raymundo a little lonely, because a lot of the people he was good enough to surf around were adults.

Except for this one little towheaded fellow who paddled out one day on this strange looking, pointy thing - _could it still be called a surfboard?_ - that barely floated him. Ray had seen this guy in action before while studying the movement of the waves. And now this guy was talking to _him_!

"You're Raymundo, right?" the boy asked in an accent he couldn't place.

"Raymundo _Wright?_... No, _Rocket._ Raymundo Rocket." he grinned sheepishly.

"I'm Clarke Duncan. Say, you're a pretty good surfer. Have you ever ridden a shortboard before?"

"Thanks! And, by the way, so are you," he returned the compliment. As to his question, Ray could only answer, "Can't say as I have, I just learned to surf earlier this summer. How's that work for you?"

"Pretty good. You can take off real late with one of these. Pretty handy with reefbreaks, like they got in Hawaii."

"Hawaii? You've been to Hawaii?"

"I'm _from_ Hawaii, by way of Brooklyn," Clarke replied. "I go to school and live with my aunt and cousins over in Hawaii, and I stay with my mom and her husband over here in the summer. Too hot ova deah."

Ray immediately felt a common bond with this individual who like himself was a product of a broken home yet who did everything within his power to make life enjoyable for himself and tried to be civil to all.

"Let's switch boards and I'll tell you how it works," Clarke offered and they did so. After a few clumsy first tries, Ray got the shortboard wired with Clarke's encouraging advice.

The two exchanged many tales and information. "Say, why don't you come over my place for lunch? We live right up the hill!" offered Clarke.

"Sure!" Ray accepted.

The two trudged up the hill from the pier. They walked to the right onto a cul-de-sac, passing a very strange looking white split-level house. Part of it looked like a huge old boat buried in the side of the mountain. There was no garage that could be seen, but a huge black sedan was parked on a very large cement driveway.

"Wonder who lives there?" asked Ray out loud.

"Some batty old actor. Charlie something or other. He was in some movie about vampires. Ah, here we are!"

He referred of course to the house next door to it, with a very inviting swimming pool. Clarke plunged in as he laid his board aside, and Raymundo did likewise.

"That felt good," Ray observed.

"Yup," nodded Clarke.

"Home is the surfer, home from the sea," greeted an adult woman from inside the house.

"Hi Mom!" greeted Clarke as he stepped from the pool, accepting a towel from her.

"Mrs Duncan," courtesied Raymundo.

"Please, call me Doris," she urged.

"Mind if I borrow your phone for a local call?" Ray asked.

"Go ahead," they said.

Ray dialed a number. "Message for Schuyler Rocket, please... Thanks. From Raymundo... He'll know. Having lunch with the Duncans, 82 Ozone Street, Klamath 5-14-21. Home and maybe movie after. Thanks again...Bye!" Doris grinned noddingly.

From his new friend Clarke and Clarke's mother Doris, Ray learned much during their lunch in stories and photographs about the community in Hawaii that Doris and Clarke came from. And Ray resolved that one day he would visit Hawaii and spend some time there himself.

As he began walking down the hill towards home, Clarke beamingly offered, "Ray. Someday I'll have to teach you how to ride a skateboard."

"It'll have to be another time." Ray returned the smile. "At this hour I'm pooped. But thanks!"


	3. Chapter 3: 1971

a/n: "Lara" could be any Lara. But those who know me know who I'm talking about. And any opinions expressed by Jack and/or Tina may or may not be similar to those of myself, or of any other real person. So there. :-P

Chapter 3: 1971.

Eleven year old Danielle Colebourne breathed slowly as she rested quietly, elbows and knees on the sandy ground, studying the beautiful but deadly creature who sat, doubtless well aware of her presence but largely unconcerned, only a few meters away for a long moment through her viewfinder. Her finger found the trigger and pressed. There was a flash of bright light...

...and the gentle whir of a motor that lasted about a second as the creature darted away towards elsewhere. She turned towards her watchful mother, whose approval of the "good job" was clear. More bubbles than usual came from her mouthpiece as she giggled when mom scratched her head. The older woman tapped her wristwatch and pointed a thumb up towards the large sailboat which was the family's home, and the two divers slowly finned up towards it.

The Ni–a was seaworthy enough for cruising the Antilles, and with some attention maybe for crossing an ocean or two, but not too nicely kept. There were surfboards and a kayak or two lashed to the deck, and many interior spaces were cluttered with diving equipment and camera gear of every description, along with various artifacts and preserved specimens. There was one cubicle, relatively tidy, kept as a sort of office, with a boxful of recent newspapers and magazines, a Philips shortwave receiver, a cassette tape recorder, and a small Royal manual typewriter in an open case. Jack Colebourne had finished preparing some sandwiches when the girls emerged from the water.

"Danni got the shot!" Tina declared as they ungeared and toweled off.

"She did?" asked Jack. "Congratulations! We'll have to see what develops."

"I think it's gonna turn out good because I did everything you and Mom told me about taking pictures underwater," Danni beamed as she grabbed a soda out of the cooler. "That'll be one cool shark picture. I think it could get into a 'cyclopaedia or somethin'."

-.-.-.-

Some time later, Danni got into one of her pensive moods, as she often found herself getting in lately. She talked to her parents as the family of three rested under large umbrellas on the deck.

"I love the ocean, but I miss living on the land. I don't think I could ride a bicycle to save my life. I miss having friends. Like Lara and Susie..."

"Honey, very few people your age can do the things you know how to do. You cook the best breakfasts, you can swim fifty feet down without air, you surf big waves by yourself, you can rebuild a motor, you can fix a regulator, you drive the boat, you did an operation on Dad when he had a really bad cut and made him all better. Anyway, Lara had to go away to school. And Susie... Susie can't spend a lot of time with us. Her dad," replied Tina in a whisper, "works for the United States Government."

Jack, war veteran, policy critic, and underground social commentator alerted anyway, and launched into a polemic. "Land is the province of government. Government is not so much an organization as it is a concept, a force, almost a disease. Like any powerful drug, its abuse has disastrous consequences, and its use 'as directed' has harmful side effects. That stupid war does nothing to protect us. The lessons we learned in Korea...hmph! The Japanese couldn't stop it; the French couldn't stop it..."

Tina tried to make the whole thing a little more understandable. "No one has the moral right to take an innocent person--like me, like you, like your father--into custody and make them do things that they don't want to do, or aren't capable of doing, especially if it's to make them hurt and kill people who haven't threatened them or their own country. There are men working for the government on the land who want to catch and punish your father and others who think like he does..."

"Daddy is a good man. Why would they want to catch him?"

"...Because the way he wants to live and the ideas he talks and writes about are a threat to the way the government seeks to maintain its power. The government always wants to become more powerful, but the laziest way to make that happen--instead of doing easy and good things like making sure everyone always has food to eat and clean drinking water and a house to live in and the ability to see a doctor and get medicine when you get sick--is to make it so there's always something to be frightened of: people in another country, people of another religion, and, if all else fails them, even your own neighbors."

"Gee. Things must really be screwed up out there," Danni observed.

"Ain't that the truth, princess," responded Jack. "Tell ya what. Things are gonna change. They have to. When everybody in the Beltway gets back to their senses, and we can spend enough time tied up to a big enough rock, your old man's gonna learn ya how to ride a motorcycle!" 


	4. Chapter 4: 1972

Chapter 4: 1972.  
-  
a/n: The Keoni of this chapter is Tito's brother, the future Keoni Sr. Sorry for such a short contribution; I've been busy, and haven't updated in a while.  
-  
Vvvvippp!

The boar squealed and convulsed after the arrow hit it, then it did something Keoni was totally unprepared for: It regained its footing and charged directly at the two hunters, snarling. But Tito stood at the ready, spear in hand, and just shoved the point into the writhing, slobbering beast until it could go no further. He had found the monster's heart and it took less than ten seconds for it to die.

"Woah! Dat's a beeg buggah," Keoni observed. "Feed da family fo like two weeks fo sho, brah!"

"Yeah," Tito replied. "He been causing us lots of problems. Tearing up the taros and the mangos and the papayas; Mommi would have a fit if he ever got to the nonis. Good thing we got him. But how we gonna get him home?"

Tito had a good question. Taking down a wild beast was one thing; transporting a four hundred pound carcass was another, and they were the better part of two miles from home. Such things have to be taken care of rather quickly, lest the meat spoil.

"We can put him on a big stick and drag him between two horses."

"We got jus one horse, an Miyake took his when he wen mainland!" Scratch that.

"How bout motorcycles? We got three motorcycles at the place," Keoni urged.

"Reality check. You jus one man, brah. All da oddah guys still workin in da office," Tito dismissed, as he set about finding a suitable branch for hauling the boar.

"Gimme time. I'll be back in one hour or so," replied Keoni as he marched into the woods.

Sure enough, in about an hour's time just as it was getting dark, two motorcycle headlamps could be seen advancing through the brush. Driving one was Keoni, and driving the other was a little wisp of a girl, eight years old: the brothers' cousin Noelani.

"Oh cool! You got that mean ol' pua'a!" she exclaimed giddily.

"If we hurry, we can get him cleaned and put in the freezer," Keoni explained. The two men had the pig tied to the stick in no time, and fashioned a harness for dragging him by two motorcycles.

"Noelani?" asked Tito before they shoved off.

"What is it, Tito?" she asked.

"I think you better ride with Keoni, lil cuz. His side needs more traction." 


End file.
